


and from then on, it was turpentine and patches

by CuboneGirl13



Series: alight [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Freeverse, Narrative, POV Second Person, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1719668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuboneGirl13/pseuds/CuboneGirl13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>everyone's a different kind of broken.<br/>some people are better at shoving the shattered bits under the rug.<br/>but some<br/>show everyone their scars<br/>and cracks<br/>and<br/>you're not sure what you are<br/>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and from then on, it was turpentine and patches

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this one took just about all month. XD It took several unexpected turns, and hey, I've been busy! (stop reading for a little while if you don't care about my personal life. XD) I turned sixteen earlier in the month, I was finishing up classes, I had my voice recital, show choir auditions were Thursday, anddd I found out yesterday that I'm now a Choralier! :D  
> (if you didn't care, you can start back. :P) This not-so-little fic is gonna be split into an as-of-yet unknown number of chapters, and I'll try to post one a week.  
> So. Yeah. Enjoy~  
> Edit: Screw multiple chapters. That didn't work, so here's the whole thing. XD
> 
> Title is from "Braille" by Regina Spektor.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own a thing.

ever since the battle,  
you've been scared of being alone.  
when you were in hospital, you were rarely left alone.  
always a healer checking up on you,  
a friend popping in for a visit,  
Bill dropping in for a chat.  
but now,  
with your own flat,  
it feels like you're always alone,  
and it scares you.  
you know the monster that did this to you,  
he's locked up for good.  
you still can't shake the unease  
when you lock the doors as soon as you get home,  
so you stay out.  
go for drinks with friends after work,  
do overtime,  
even go back to your mum every once in a while,  
anything to keep from being alone,  
from going back to a cold, lonely apartment,  
from feeling like everyone's happy and normal but you  
.  
when you're at work, it reminds you,  
everyone's a different kind of broken.  
some people are better at shoving the shattered bits under the rug.  
others are skilled at wielding their duct tape and super glue.  
but some  
just let the broken pieces hang out  
and show everyone their scars  
and cracks  
and  
you're not sure what you are  
.  
you're not the only new auror who feels shattered beyond repair.  
Harry's grown too fast  
in too little time.  
Neville's still picking up the shards of his parents  
and finally growing out of their shadows.  
Susan's got a grudge the size of Russia  
and a thirst for revenge that won't let her let it go.  
Ron's tattered self-esteem is there for everyone to see  
and for him to hope that no one laughs at it.  
and Seamus?  
was far gone even before all this mess  
.  
you feel like you're finding all your pieces  
and one by one,  
putting yourself back together,  
like the jigsaw puzzles your brother loved when you were children,  
the ones he said were too little to play with.  
(you know now he just didn't want to share)  
you wish it was as simple as those.  
fifty little geometric pieces  
with the picture on the box so you know what you're doing,  
and your mum there to help you figure out where those last few pieces went.  
it’s less simple  
when it’s someone’s life you’re dealing with,  
when there’s no one who even knows where to start  
and there’s no defined edges  
and sometimes  
the little pieces just slip through your fingers  
and shatter into more tiny shards  
until what little is left whole of you  
just falls  
a  
p  
a  
r  
t  
.  
you immerse yourself in work,  
in training  
and paperwork  
and just focusing on other people’s brokenness  
and ignoring your own.  
it’s been working pretty well,  
until as a “reward” for your hard work,  
you’re given a couple days off,  
and you panic,  
because you can’t spend them alone, you _can’t_.  
but  
Parvi’s back at Hogwarts,  
and Katie’s doing pre-season training,  
and everyone you can think of has things to do that _don’t involve you_.  
which is reasonable, yeah,  
but  
not very beneficial at the moment  
.  
you call up Bill,  
and it _just so happens_  
that his wife who you’d _love_ has the same day of as you,  
so you make plans,  
and you half-dread them,  
but you convince yourself  
 _it’s better than being alone_  
.  
you’re made to take Friday off,  
so you get to meet Fleur  
and you remember her from that _disastrous_ tournament in fourth year  
and you realize she’s just as pretty as all the boys said,  
but you didn’t really expect Bill to settle for any less.  
she’s not nearly as vapid as you expected,  
and she invites you in for tea  
and  
you can’t help but be jealous  
of her house,  
her beauty,  
of **her**.  
because you _know_  
she never gets ugly stares on the street,  
kids asking their parents why she looks like she’s been though a paper shredder,  
never been asked why all her clothes and books were second-hand.  
and  
you think it’d be easier to hate her had she been mean.  
you may have lost some inhibitions,  
but you know you can’t express any of _that_ ,  
not to your unexpectedly kind, **perfect** hostess,  
so you smile  
and chat  
and remind yourself,  
 _it’s better than being alone_  
.  
all too soon,  
it’s seven o’clock and Bill’s home and you feel you’ve overstayed your welcome,  
but they still have you stay for dinner.  
it’s better than the microwave dinner you would’ve had at home,  
but you still long for your mum’s cooking.  
you’re given  much nicer wine than you’ve had in your life  
and you have a little too much.  
you can’t apparate and you’ve never been good with the floo,  
so Bill offers to take you home.  
you’re in no state to reject him,  
so you grab your purse  
and then onto his arm  
and-  
you always forget how much you hate side-along apparition.  
being the gentleman he is,  
he takes your key and lets you in your flat,  
and before you quite know what you’re doing,  
you take his hand and lean in  
and he rears back before you can actually touch.  
and looks at you.  
and  
you realize  
you screwed up big time.  
you try to apologize,  
but he just stutters out an excuse to leave  
and get back to his _wife_  
who you _completely_ forgot about  
and  
he’s gone  
and you’re just left with a sinking feeling  
and  
all your broken pieces just fall to the floor  
and shatter  
and  
you don’t want to be alone  
.  
this weekend’s a Hogsmeade weekend over at Hogwarts,  
so you decide,  
why not surprise Parvati with a visit!  
so you wake up early to get ready,  
to give yourself time to do your makeup all nice  
so maybe you’ll feel presentable,  
and you apparate to the village.  
you’ll all happy  
and excited  
until you get there  
and  
she’s not in her usual corner at the pub.  
you shrug it off and go to Honeyduke’s, thinking she may be giving into her  awful sugar tooth,  
but  
she’s not there either.  
you feel yourself start to panic at your plan going awry,  
feel like you’re about to pass out,  
so you practice deep breathing and all that yoga crap,  
try to calm yourself down,  
and go sit in a corner in the Hog’s Head  
[it may be sketchy, but it’s _immensely_ quieter in there.]  
until you can breathe normally again  
.  
you know she hates that place,  
the cutesy little tea shop covered in pink and dripping with lace,  
but you check there anyway  
and  
you see her  
with a date  
and  
once again  
your  
heart  
sinks.  
and you begin to think  
 _you’re meant to be alone_  
.  
you know you’re not supposed to be back yet,  
but  
you still come into work on Monday,  
so you dodge your boss  
and disapproving looks from everyone else  
and delve back into paperwork like you were never gone,  
and  
it’s not fun,  
but  
 _it’s better than being alone_  
.  
Susan, being her ~~nosy~~ caring self, tries to ask what’s wrong  
but you just shrug her off.  
you know she’s just looking for gossip,  
so  
you just engage in the usual coworker type small talk  
until she leaves for lunch with her not-boyfriend  
and  
you’re left alone again  
.  
you don’t realize until your stomach’s growling that you worked well through lunch,  
so you stare at your rapidly shrinking inbox  
and evaluate if you really _care_ about food right now.  
you don’t  
.  
after another hour, someone sends Seamus in for you,  
and  
it’s nice to see a friendly face,  
but  
it’s a lot less nice to see the corned beef sandwich _staring_ at you from your desk.  
he sniggers,  
saying Ron’s mum sent them,  
and  
while you appreciate the gesture,  
you very much don’t appreciate the interruption,  
so of course you tell him so,  
but he just laughs  
and plops down on the corner of your desk  
and throws the sandwich in your lap.  
you ignore him,  
see if that’ll make him leave,  
but  
of course  
he stays  
and stares  
until you tell him to piss off,  
and once again,  
he just _laughs_  
and tells you to  
“eat up, sweetheart”  
.  
it’s not too long before he leaves,  
sandwich still untouched.  
for once, you’re pleased to be all by your lonesome,  
better than having _that_ annoyance around,  
but  
pretty soon,  
the silence is getting to you  
and  
you can’t breathe,  
so you  
just  
leave  
.  
you don’t want to go home  
to more silence,  
so  
you just go down the street to a pub,  
needing _humans_ ,  
not just the pests in your office.  
there’s already some drunk idiots at **four in the bloody afternoon**  
and you try not to wince when one tries to chat you up,  
‘cause it’s the first time you’re been hit on by someone other than your _bloody partner_ ,  
and you don’t know,  
he may be a nice guy when he’s sober!  
until he pukes on his own shoes  
and passes out  
and nope,  
maybe not so nice  
.  
in between the owner’s harried apologies and your own rebuffals,  
you manage to wheedle a free meal out of him,  
so you just sit in a corner  
and hope and pray for a _moment of peace and quiet to just eat your lunch, blast it!_  
but of course,  
you must have killed a puppy in a past life or something,  
because it doesn’t take _five minutes_ for some  
(actually kind of cute)  
ginger bloke to sidle up to your booth.  
you brace yourself for some kind of obnoxious, repulsive idiocy,  
but  
you’re taken aback when the first words out of his mouth are  
“hey, you dated my brother once, right?”  
and  
you’re not quite sure how to react.  
he just smiles  
and remarks that you must not remember him, then,  
and you rack your brain,  
because you’d remember a face like that!  
and  
then you do.  
he kind of smirks at the recognition on your face  
and while you’re still astonished,  
Percy steals a chip off your plate  
and  
when did _he_ get attractive?  
and how did he know about sixth year?  
and  
you’re still kind of stuck on his face.  
but  
you’re a big girl,  
so you smile back  
and invite him to sit  
and internally bask in the attention  
.  
your heart is still fluttering as you unlock your front door several hours later,  
and  
you’re alone,  
but  
you don’t mind, actually.  
a promise of dinner next Friday  
and a full week of work leading up ‘til then make it bearable  
and  
for once,  
you don’t feel so broken.


End file.
